


Bottles of Beer

by Squid_Ink



Series: The Fiery Templar and the Fearless Assassin [15]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Gen, Just Married, OC Kids - Freeform, irunno what the fuck this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squid_Ink/pseuds/Squid_Ink
Summary: Julien asks Arno a question.





	

_Paris, France_ _— 1806_

            Julien slammed the book close, wrapped his young arms around it and trotted out of the library, down the stairs, through the hall and down the second set of stairs until he came to a door. The little boy stared at it, huffed and knocked on the door. It creaked open, a hooded and masked assassin peering out at him. “Where’s my papa?” Julien asked, looking at one of his father’s assassins.

            “In his study, do you want me to escort you?” the assassin asked. Julien nodded, frowned, and brushed some of his copper colored bangs out of his brown eyes.

            “Yes, please,” the eight-year-old chimed. The assassin’s eyes crinkled into a smile as the child entered the sanctuary and grabbed the assassin’s hand. They walked along the carpeted runner to the inner sanctum, the polish mahogany door was closed, the Assassin seal gleaming in polished silver. The assassin knocked, thrice, bowed to Julien and left to return to his post. A muffled _come in_ sounded and Julien opened the door.

            “Julien?” Arno asked, looking up from his paperwork.

            “Papa, Papa! I have a question!” Julien declared, his solemn demeanor vanishing, as he trotted up to his father. “An important question!” the boy added, as he reached Arno’s side and set the book on the desk. He crawled into Arno’s lap and pulled the book towards them.

            “What’s your question?” Arno asked, wrapping an arm around Julien’s waist. Julien remained silent as he flipped through the book.

            “There,” he said, “that’s my question!” he pointed to the image. Arno peered at it, biting his lip in a thoughtful frown.

            “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Julien,” Arno said. Julien gave an exasperated huff. “Why don’t you tell me?”

            “Alright,” he said in a put-upon manner, “Mama says that there is always a singular truth, right?”

            “That’s the Templar belief, and your mama is a Templar,” Arno agreed.

            “Well, how can there be _one_ truth if these people say that their god is the true god,” Julien pointed to the picture of the Arab astrologers, “but the priests at Notre Dame say that their god is the true god? _And_ ,” he went on, “how come the Americans can say that their… president is right but England’s king is wrong? But England can say their king is right but the Americans’ president is wrong?” He frowned. “Everyone says they have the truth. But someone _has to_ be wrong, right Papa?”

            “Why does someone has to be wrong?” Arno asked. Julien frowned. Arno could see his son puzzle out the question, trying to find the best answer.

            “Because,” Julien said, “there is either a right or a wrong. No in between.”

            “Alright, what would Mama say if you asked her this very same question?” Arno asked. Julien glanced at the book, then down at the ground, deep in thought.

            “Mama would say… that they are both wrong. That they cannot see the real Truth. They don’t have order or purpose… and can’t be guided by the Father of Understanding.” Julien looked at his father, “Is she right? Charlie would say that too.”

            “She would?” Arno asked. Julien nodded.

            “Yeah,” he said, “Charlie says that because nature has laws, then nature has a natural order to it. Everything has its place, like a watch.”

            Arno gave a resigned sigh; he had accepted that his daughter would follow in her mother’s footsteps. “And what do you think?” Arno asked.

            “Can’t they both be right?” Julien asked. “I mean… how can they _know_ for sure, that the other side is wrong?”

            “Nothing is true, everything is permitted,” Arno said. Julien giggled. “What’s funny?”

            “You tell Mama that _all_ the time when you and her talk about this. Mama rolls her eyes when you do,” Julien said. Arno chuckled, ruffling his son’s hair.

            “She does, but she doesn’t mean anything by it,” Arno said. “Do you know what it means?”

            “No,” Julien said.

            “Think about it for a minute.”

            Julien frowned, mulling over the words. “Does it mean… that two sides can be right about the same thing without being wrong?” he asked. Arno gave a slow nod. “Is there more?” Again Arno nodded. “It also means we can do what we think is right, even though someone else may think it’s wrong?”

            “I wouldn’t take it _that_ far,” Arno said. “But for now, we’ll leave it as meaning two sides can be right about the same thing. We’ll get to the permitted part later.”

            “What do you think it means?” Julien asked, leaning into his father’s chest. Arno closed the book, drumming his fingers on the cover.

            “It’s a warning,” he said.

            “Against what?” Julien asked. Arno smiled, and kisses his son’s head. “What does it warn against, Papa?”

            “Why don’t you think about it, and come tell me when you figure it out, hmm?” Arno said. Julien pouted.

            “But I want to know now!” he whined.

            “Then you’ll never learn,” Arno said, “but go on now, bring the book back and puzzle this out, you’re good with puzzles.”

            Julien sighed, sliding off Arno’s lap and accepting the book when his father handed it to him. “But… what if I don’t figure it out until next year or it takes me longer than that?” Julien asked.

            “I don’t care how long it takes you to figure it out, just come tell me when you think you have the answer,” Arno said. “I’ll remember.”

            “Promise?” Julien asked.

            “Promise. Go find your sister and mother, I’ll be up in a few minutes and then we can go to the opera.”

            “Okay!” Julien shouted, grinning, and running off.

 

_Paris, France_ _— 1818_

 

            A cold wind blew off the Seine, Julien stared down at the silver pocket watch. It once belonged to his father. “I figured out the riddle, Papa,” he whispered to the watch. His parents have been missing for three months. They had gone to Austria, for his grandmother’s funeral and had yet to return. “They should have returned by now,” Julien muttered. It felt like everything that could go wrong was happening now. Léon was imprisoned in Syria, his parents were missing, and Charlotte had vanished in the south of France. Leaving him to try and figure out everything on his own. The Brotherhood kept asking him to assume his father’s place as Mentor, but Julien kept declining, insisting that his father would return and until then the management of the Brotherhood will be in the hands of the council.

            Julien didn’t know anything about the Templars, save that once a week someone would come asking his mother had returned yet. He kept telling the man no.

            Julien snapped the pocket watch close and tucked it into his pocket before pushing away from the window and walked into his parents’ bedroom. He looked around, missing his parents all the more now. He flicked his wrists, the duel hidden blades snapping out and then back in. Mind made up, he stalked out of his parents’ room, down the hall and quickly descended the stairs. “Julien?” a voice called. He turned, spotting Edmée. “Where are you going?” He stared at her, then out the window. It began to rain. He didn’t say anything to Edmée, simply walked towards the door.  “Julien!”

            He stopped, hand on the door frame. “To find my sister,” he said and left.

 

_Southern France_ _— 1818_

 

            Charlotte watched as the hooded figure walked towards her. It wasn’t her father, that much she knew, the Assassins robes were a plain cobalt blue. “Took you long enough to find me, brother mine,” she called to the approaching assassin.

            Julien looked up, lowering his hood and pushed some of his red hair out of eyes. “Charlie,” he greeted with an incline of his head.

            “It’s Charlotte,” she hissed. “And what do you want?”

            “Mama and Papa haven’t returned home,” Julien said. “I’ve come to ask for your help in finding them.”

            “And why should I trust you, you’re an assassin,” Charlotte pointed out. Julien kept his face impassive, but his sister’s words stung. Had they really let the issue fester that their sibling bond has been destroyed. Julien wondered if it would have been wiser if their parents had kept them in the dark about the hidden war between Assassin and Templar.

            “I’m your brother, Charlie,” Julien said. “We’re family first before anything else. Léon is still stuck in Syria; I can’t find Mama and Papa on my own.”

            “Can’t you use your assassin senses?” Charlotte hissed. “The ones Papa honed to a razor’s edge.”

            “You have them too, Charlie,” Julien said, holding out his hand. His sister stared at his hand.

            “How many times must I tell you don’t call me _Charlie!_ ” Charlotte hissed, blue-green eyes flashing. Julien blinked, remaining statue-still.

            “You know; I won’t stop calling you that. You’re my sister, my elder sister.” Julien smiled. “I need you Charlotte. I need your help. Our parents need you. Mama and Papa always spoke of unity between the Assassins and Templars. What do you think they’ll say if they saw us fighting?”

            “They’ll be very disappointed,” Charlotte said. “Alright, I’ll work with you to find our parents. But that’s it.”

            “That’s all I ask,” he said as she put her hand in his.

**Author's Note:**

> Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft
> 
> Save an author; leave a review


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